Case of the Weird & Wonderful: Holiday Genesis
by RetroWriter2012
Summary: In this Christmas mini-story part of an upcoming "Disney Mystery" series centered on the world of Live-Action Disney, Sammi and Angela - with help from their friend Detective Lisa Stevens - investigate Szalinski Tech on Christmas Eve to get to the bottom of a mystery stemmed from their previous Halloween case. The story is told entirely from the perspective of Angela.


**Case of the Weird & Wonderful**  
><strong>Holiday Genesis<strong>

Christmas has come again. And I am a nervous wreck 'cause of it.

As you know, from my last entry with the Halloween case, there was a story I shared of my dear sister and private investigator, Sammi, and the situation that occurred one fateful Christmas night in 1994 that led to the birth of the woman she is today. For my family, Christmas in the past nineteen years has been anything but festive. Since we moved out of our parents' place, Sammi and I have kept our distance from them for ten years, not having spent a single Christmas together in that duration.

And it was due in part to Sammi's inability to anchor herself down from all her "weird and wonderful" cases – most particularly the Scott Calvin one.

For every Christmas since '94, Sammi disappears and goes on a wild investigation to find _her_ Santa Claus (a.k.a. Mr. Calvin). I never know exactly _where_ she goes. All I know is that she normally leaves after eight o'clock on the night of Christmas Eve and doesn't return until eight o'clock on the morning of Christmas Day (sometimes she stays out even longer).

Well, _this_ Christmas is going to be different!

This year, I'm getting help from the one woman we always seem willing _to_ help – Detective Lisa Stevens! From all the cases we've solved in San Fran through the last few years, she's become something of a close friend (and the only _real_ one) to Sammi and me. And that is why _she_ is just the one I need to keep Sammi's butt glued down to the apartment this year.

After calling up Mom and Dad and assuring them that it's O.K. to spend Christmas at our place this year (I even promised a good ol' fashioned Chinese Christmas dinner, complete with a "Chinese turkey" made by Miss Chung), I contacted Lisa.

Sure enough, before I could fill Lisa in on the plan, she intended to call _me_.

Apparently, Sammi had been arrested earlier in the morning for trespassing and misconduct on Szalinski Tech property.

Just exactly how I wanted to begin my plan for reuniting us with our parents. (This is sarcasm, in case you can't tell.)

I should've suspected she would pull this stunt. She told me, before leaving the apartment this morning, that she planned to go out Christmas shopping (with absolute _no_ money to spend). Not that she has _ever_ shopped for gifts before – that duty's always fallen on me.

The lie she conjured up is brought on by our case from last Halloween (the pilfered tech and our mysterious "tall Polish chick"). Ever since then, she has been obsessed with solving her newest case. Szalinski Tech has been her starting point, since the stolen tech used in the previous case came from the industry.

Unfortunately, because she isn't a member of personnel, she did not have the clearance to enter the Szalinski Tech H.Q. downtown. Obviously, that didn't stop her from using various insane methods of getting in. In the last month, she has seduced the security guards by wearing nothing but lingerie, put on elaborate disguises and using fake I.D. (this nearly got her halfway in before security caught on), and used sleeping gas (don't ask me how she got it). These ridiculous attempts have led to fifteen different counts of arrest.

Thankfully, each time, Lisa has bailed her out by reminding the police commissioner how valuable she is to their precinct, having solved multiple cases they weren't able to. But she may not have any more chances with the commissioner's patience wearing thin.

To be honest, Sammi wouldn't have to break into the building so many times if the police took up on the case themselves (they've opted to ignore it on account of their belief that it was just an act of juveniles who'd say anything to get out of trouble). They may be right on that, but they shouldn't just sweep this under the rug. Even Lisa has agreed with me on that, and she's doing everything in her power to get a foothold in the investigation – yet Sammi has only hindered it with her constant prying.

I go to Lisa's precinct that afternoon and meet with her. The first thing I've noticed every time I see her is how she wears that dark brown trench coat over her dark grey office suit most of the time. For a thirty-something Caucasian woman with bleach-blond hair, she really does love to dress in dim colors.

Lisa warned me how the commissioner was on the verge of "throwin' the book" at Sammi before she even received a fair trial (one that she'll obviously lose, due to the insurmountable crimes she'd committed).

That only meant I was the only hope she had for making bail.

"Let me talk to her." I asked of Lisa.

"I was gonna suggest the same thing." She told me. "But I want this to be the _last_ time I have to save her ass. You _need_ to get her to back off from Szalinski Tech for good, Angela. If she makes another go at them, she's gonna be locked in a prison tougher than any Piper Kerman's been to."

Lisa made her point clear, although I'm worried Sammi will be placed somewhere much worse – like back in the mental institution.

I was led straight into the interrogation room that my sister had been held in, sitting at the metal table at the center of it and handcuffed by her right hand to the right rail. She's looked so much worse since this new case started – her complexion much paler, dark circles around her eyes, and her hair in shambles. It scares me to think that this case has taken more of a toll on her sanity than the Calvin/Santa one she's been on for nearly twenty years.

The first words out of her mouth as I sat across from her at the table: "You don't need to _try_ and convince me to back off."

She figured it out right away. I swear, _nothing_ ever gets past her.

"Don't pull that Sherlock trick again." The aggravated Lisa demanded. "You clearly heard us talking right outside just as we were coming in."

Sammi shook her head and grinned at the detective. "You're just too predictable these days, Stevens." She then gestured to me and said, "You contacted my sister once the repeated break-ins became too much for _your_ job."

The obvious wit in her voice tested Lisa's patience. I could hear her fingers pop when she clenched her fists, ready to unleash on Sammi. She clearly even told me through her gritted teeth, "Imma 'bout to clock her. I'm tellin' ya, Angela."

"Just let me deal with this, O.K.?" I calmly told her.

The hard-boiled detective backed off, retreating to a corner with her arms folded and allowing me to handle my sister in the way I was accustomed to.

"Let's talk about this, Sammi." I began. "What can we do to fix this? How can we appease your constant need to solve this case?"

I figured taking a direct approach to this issue was best – there was no negotiating with her otherwise.

"Chrissy Zmijewski."

I recognized the name. "The Szalinski Tech CEO? What about her?"

She rolled her eyes at my obliviousness to the obvious that only _she_ could see. "She perfectly fits the description of our 'tall Polish chick' that those boys in Salem identified. _She_ is our suspect!"

Lisa and I exchanged a quick disconcerted glance that didn't slip by Sammi.

"Oh, come on! How can neither of you see that?" She bellowed with frustration. "Just give me a few minutes with her – a few minutes to ask the right questions."

Lisa snickered. "I doubt ya'll ever be allowed in Szalinski Tech again with the stunts you pulled in the past month!"

"Which is why you and Angela must go and investigate _for_ me."

"And _why_ would _we_ do _that_?" Lisa notably emphasized her words to reflect her pessimistic attitude over the idea.

Sammi mocked her need for emphasis by replying, "Because _you_ have _the_ power _to_ get _yourselves_ inside."

Taking her proposal into consideration, I gave an agreeable nod. "Alright. Fair deal. But, while we're there, you have to stay back at the apartment like a good little girl."

Sammi groaned (probably mostly from me referring to her as "good little girl"). "Fine. Whatever."

I refrain from giggling when I then added a stipulation to the deal: "You have to stay there – _handcuffed_."

Those big brown eyes of hers enlarged at this. "No way! Forget it!"

"Oh, I like _that_ idea." Lisa said with the largest smile I've ever seen on her face.

"Sammi, I have to be sure this year that you'll stay put."

"Why?"

"Because…" I took a deep breath, hoping she'll understand this next part. "…I called Mom and Dad this morning and invited them to come on Christmas Day tomorrow."

This appeared to have aggravated her further. "Oh, god. This again. You just won't give up on reuniting our little family on the most annoying time of the year."

I felt a little angry at her saying this. Apparently, family meant way more to me than it ever did to her. Of course, catching her with this attitude, I made sure to remind her of what was at stake.

"O.K. Have it your way. Good luck in finding another way inside Szalinski Tech that doesn't end with you getting arrested for the umpteenth time."

"Wait." She caved rather a lot more quickly than anticipated – it only took her two seconds, which was a new record for her. After a heavy sigh, she finally said, "We have a deal."

Once we shook on it, Lisa headed out of the room to get Sammi's bail authorized, as well as a warrant to investigate the Szalinski Tech HQ.

After making a stop to the apartment to handcuff Sammi to one of the hard wooden legs of our antique living room computer desk (so that she wouldn't get _completely_ bored), Lisa and I arrived at Szalinski Tech, using the issued warrant as a ticket for getting inside the sixty-story building in the heart of San Fran.

Stepping inside for the first time, my eyes were overwhelmed by the abundant whiteness of the interior. With the outside sun shining through the exterior glass structure and bouncing off the white walls, it was enough to blind anyone walking inside like us, prompting a need for sunshades. We nearly bumped right into a large bronze statue, situated at the center of the lobby, of founder Wayne Szalinski's most prized invention: the shrinking machine. It was modeled perfectly after the real thing, with the added touch of the barrel tip lighting on and off to simulate its prime function.

Pretty cool statue and effect, if I may say so. It's just too bad the story of Szalinski's famous invention is nothing more than a glorified myth. I mean, a machine that _shrinks_ things? Get real!

We followed the digital wall directory to the floor where Chrissy Zmijewski was and took one of the glass elevators up. From the elevator, we got a pretty impressive view of the different levels of the facility, reserved for various activities that ranged from exploration to testing of new scientific discoveries – things that would make Wayne Szalinski proud if he were to visit the HQ sometime (I can imagine he does quite often).

Lisa and I arrived at one of the topmost floors of the building. We were definitely high up, as we could see the hundreds of levels through the glass floor beneath (seriously, if you suffer from vertigo, you do _not_ want to look down while riding this thing). We stepped right onto the white-clad, spotless oval corridor that led in only one direction: to the receptionist's desk outside of Zmijewski's office.

The receptionist himself – a short, young Hispanic male (presumably somewhere in his early to mid-twenties) with a bald head, busy black eyebrows, and dark skin – sat there in a white suit and tie that merged with the interior (he almost looked like a floating head in my adjusting eyes). If it were not for the mini, decorated green Christmas tree he had sitting on his desk, his dark brown-skinned head would've been the only thing that stood out.

Once the young man saw us approach the desk, he held up his right hand (palm facing us) and said in a rather flimsy voice, "Sorry. Miss Zmijewski isn't receiving any visitors today."

Lisa almost seemed ready for his verbal restriction once she yanked out her badge and the warrant, which urged the receptionist to call Zmijewski from the earpiece in his right ear.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry to interrupt, but there are two ladies here to see you." He made sure to mention the most crucial detail about us: "One of them's a cop." It was that bit of information that I believe ensured our meeting with the Szalinski Tech CEO, as the receptionist proceeded to let us into Zmijewski's office.

The room we walked into was a stark contrast to the rest of the building.

"Get a load of this getup." Lisa muttered to me as we both took in the new atmosphere.

Zmijewski's office appeared more like a penthouse with a dark gray carpeted floor and three hardwood walls – one other wall was fitted for a spotless window that provided a magnificent view of San Francisco's skyline.

"Man, this chick is livin' large." Lisa again commented as we walked through the lengthy, wide office space.

At the far end, the left side was reserved for business, with a glass desk that had one chrome lamp, an iPad, and another one of those mini decorated Christmas trees sitting on it. The right side was for fitness, with various exercising equipment lined out. In the corner of this side of the office was Zmijewski herself, donned in a sexy black turtleneck sweater dress with the skirt so high above her rear thighs that the lower half of her butt cheeks could be seen while she performed pull-ups on an interconnected bar. Each time she pulled herself up, I could see her biceps expand through the fabric of her sleeves, close to shredding through it.

It wasn't unusual to see a businesswoman working out in her office, but it was when she's still wearing her formal attire. Maybe this was why she couldn't accept any visitors – she wanted to work out alone.

Yet she certainly wasn't very shy with us present, continuing in her fitness while addressing us and not missing a beat. "May I help you ladies?" She asked while going down then back up again. I could see that she was indeed tall. Her knees hovered nearly a couple of feet from the floor.

Lisa pulled out a folded piece of paper from the left pocket of her trench coat. Before leaving the apartment, Sammi gave Lisa a list of the "right questions" that needed to be asked. However, not _all_ of the questions could be asked – Sammi put some in there that just downright offended Zmijewski's Polish heritage (and as tall and fit as this woman was, pissing her off was on the very bottom of my list of how I wanted this meeting to go down).

Unfolding the paper, Lisa began asking the questions pertaining to the pilfered Szalinski tech that was used in Salem and the three teenage boys that used it. Zmijewski did not respond to any of them, her focus seeming to be on her pull-ups. I could see how ridiculous Lisa was beginning to feel during this strange interrogation (she might as well have been reading a list of things she wanted for Christmas to a mall Santa).

There was then this unbelievable trick that Zmijewski executed shortly after Lisa reached the last few questions on the list (it even took _my_ mind off of them for a while). With one mighty pull on the bar, she lifted her entire upper body above it. She then lifted her lower body as well, her butt momentarily facing us (we caught a brief glimpse of the black silk underwear she wore underneath), until her _entire_ self was above the bar, displaying what could only be described as a perfect handstand. Thanks to her long, toned legs, her bare feet had practically touched the ceiling, providing some of the balance that kept her up above the bar.

"Pretty neat, eh?" She asked us. Our mouths were pretty much agape at the super athletic sight.

And just as flawless as her effort was in getting herself up, it was in getting herself down, carefully lowering her entire body back below the bar. She leapt right off of it, her feet hitting the carpeted floor with a loud yet muffled _thump_.

As she turned to face us for the first time since the meeting began, I realized how gorgeous she was with her long light brown hair and youthful face (she looked quite young to be the CEO of a major industry). If I were to compare her face to any famous person, I'd have to go with Scarlett Johansson.

And there wasn't an ounce of sweat on her either. Not even her attire was drenched anywhere, especially on the back and armpits – the easiest of places to attract stains.

Her sweater dress was incredibly form-fitting, too. The work she'd put into her outstanding physique showed through it in outlines. The notable rise in the skirt was corrected once she tugged it down post-workout, but it was clear that the formal-yet-sexy outfit was purposely made against her tall frame for alluring purposes.

Approaching Lisa and me, the both of us felt like hobbits to the five-foot-ten woman. I have to admit that I was pretty intimidated as soon as she was right in front us. I worried if Sammi's questions might've been _too_ pressing on her character, and the Szalinski Tech CEO would use that impressive physical strength to get violent.

She moved her right hand at us and I instinctively flinched.

"Welcome to Szalinski Tech."

She held out her hand to shake, not to maim.

I was relieved and embarrassed at the same time. I took my right hand in to shake hers – it felt like I had shaken hands with a vice machine, possibly capable of crushing all the bones in my hand if she squeezed any harder.

Zmijewski gestured to her glass desk. "Have a seat and let's talk. You two thirsty? I can have Raimundo bring in some company bottle water."

Lisa shook her head. "No, thanks."

"I wouldn't mind one." I accepted.

Zmijewski tapped her right index finger to her right ear, calling Raimundo (her receptionist) and having him bring in two bottles of Szalinski Tech water (How different was it from _regular_ bottled water? I was about to find out).

"So," she began, getting right to business as she gently sat upon her desk, "to sum up your curious inquiries into one answer, Detective, I haven't the slightest idea how that tech ended up in the possession of those three troubled youths." There was much high-class in the manner of which she spoke – not nearly as pompous as Sammi but just friendly enough to respect the person she addressed.

During the conversation, Raimundo showed up with the bottles of water for me and Zmijewski. I took one sip and noticed how it just tasted like the clear, filtered water that'd come out of any other brand of bottled water. The only thing that gave it some distinction was the label, which carried the Szalinski Tech logo (a light bulb with an animated "thumb up" hand gesture interlocked to the bulb's base). But, obviously, I didn't pass up on free water, so I took the rest of it down in intervals.

"So you deny any involvement with the events in Salem last Halloween?" Lisa questioned to Zmijewski.

The young CEO nodded, her face expressing genuine innocence.

"One of the boys who used the tech confessed to having it provided to them by a tall Polish woman." I had indicated to her. "No offense, Miss Zmijewski, but you _do_ fit that description."

"Guilty as charged," she responded in a playful way. "But there _are_ a multitude of women who fit that description throughout the world. Plus, and I'm not just saying this to cover my butt, anyone could have stolen my identity to forge that transaction."

Lisa nodded in agreement with her. "True. _Very_ true." She shot a look to me, as if to see I understood as well – and I did.

"That incident in Salem," a hand went to her chest when she started to become emotional, "such a horrible deed as scaring a child half to death with a terrifying prank is _way_ beneath me."

I could tell in her demeanor that she related to Dante's case in some way. "Do you have children of your own?"

"Oh, heavens, yes." She remarked, beaming up enthusiasm at the mentioning of children. She turned her head to a door near the glass desk (Lisa and I just happened to have noticed it for the first time, since its hardwood structure meshes with the same style of the walls). "Barry? Come here, baby!"

Right on cue, a four-year-old African American child in a faded blue _Buzz Lightyear_ t-shirt, beige shorts, and _Nike_ shoes rushed out from a room adjacent to the office. This room appeared to function as an actual penthouse from what I could make of its interior for the short moment the door had been left open. It was greater in size than Zmijewski's office – large enough to contain a Christmas tree that was twenty feet tall.

Barry, Zmijewski's adopted son, had low-cropped black hair and very dark skin (truthfully, he reminded me of Dante – our little client from the Halloween case). He was the cutest thing ever, but he had a notable feature to his appearance: a black eye patch with a skull-and-crossbones design over his left eye. I wanted to ask Chrissy what happened, but I didn't want to embarrass her or especially her son.

"This little fella is all kinds of excited for tomorrow." She said right as Barry hopped onto her lap. "Isn't that right, my little man? Isn't that right?" She sweetly talked to him while showering him with kisses that made him ticklish, giggling and laughing.

I must confess that the display of motherly love warmed my heart, as well as Lisa's, who I glanced at for a moment to see how she was tearing up a little. Neither of us were mothers, but we sure would give anything to be as amazing of one as Chrissy Zmijewski.

There was no way this young lady was our suspect.

And I knew I had my work cut out for me in explaining this reason to Sammi, who'd undoubtedly think that Zmijewski had put on a show to throw us off. But she was just going to have to deal with the facts.

I returned to the apartment later that evening. Chrissy had given Lisa and me a prolonged tour of the Szalinski Tech facility, and I got to know a little more of their cause. I also got to know more of Zmijewski herself and her son. Barry lost his eye as an infant due to being a diabetic, which is why he has to wear an eye patch. But Chrissy intends to dedicate research in developing a cybernetic eye for her adopted son that will allow him to see in twenty-twenty vision again. He is the first of many children with physical disabilities to be helped by Szalinski Tech science and technology.

The more I got to know of Zmijewski and her cause, the less I believed she was responsible for the incident in Salem.

I was surprised to discover that Sammi was still at the apartment when I'd arrived, still handcuffed to the desk. The only difference from how I'd left her was in her positioning, moving from the chair at the desk to the couch situated near it. She laid there, watching the flat-screen mounted on the wall above the couch. _Mickey's Christmas Carol_, a favorite of hers in her childhood, played on the screen.

"You're still here," I uttered in my moment of disbelief.

"Where else would I have gone?" She wittingly remarked, her attention still on Scrooge McDuck and Jiminy Cricket.

"I just figured you would've broken out of the cuffs in some clever way and escape."

She shrugged. "Well, I _did_ consider the old hairpin method, but I wanted to wait for you to return with results on the investigation."

I sighed, knowing she would not like what I had to say next. I switched off the TV so that her attention was centered on me and sat beside her feet on the couch. "Yeah, that's what I have to talk to you about, sis. Zmijewski _isn't_ our suspect."

She instantly sat right up, nearly falling back down again when her wrist tugged on the cuffs. "No! She _is_! What other Polish woman of excess height with strong ties to an innovative corporation would be capable of the delinquency in Salem?"

"She could've been the victim of an identity theft. Hasn't _that_ possibility run through that organic, endless-running computer you call your brain?" I didn't want to sound so defensive to my sister, but the thought of Barry and his ailment just kept popping in my head.

"She only told you that to throw you off her scent! This is exactly the reason why _I_ should've handled the interrogation! You didn't ask the _right_ questions! You've made an error! You've jeopardized our entire case!"

"SAMMI! ENOUGH! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

My sudden outburst silenced her cold. She stared right at me with a frightened look I had not seen since she was a child.

Once I had her _full_ attention, I continued where I left off, addressing her in a calmer but still quite stern tone of voice: "Mom and Dad _will_ be here tomorrow. And you have to stop with these corporate conspiracies that've been tearing our family apart. There just aren't any as you think there are between Chrissy Zmijewski and Scott Calvin. You were a scared child then, Sammi – it's time to wake up."

My words clearly had a profound effect on her, seeing that she could only sit there on the couch in silence and stare at the floor in thought.

Taking advantage of this moment, I finally decided to ask her the one question that'd been dodged so many times in the past: "Where do you go over Christmas night, Sammi?"

She sighed in defeat. "That's the _real_ reason you handcuffed me, wasn't it?"

"Just answer the question, sweetie."

It seemed at first that she wouldn't answer, but she opened up after some hesitation. "To the rooftops," she whispered to me. "I go to the rooftops, waiting for _him_ to show."

My heart nearly skipped a beat over this. It was the most insane thing I'd ever heard her do. But I didn't outright tell her that. I'm the only person in the world Sammi has left to trust with her madcap beliefs. If I treated her like those doctors in the institution did, she would go to a place she'll never return from.

I went to the handcuffs and pulled the key to them out from the right pocket of my blue wool jacket, unlocking the set from my sister's wrist. It was an act that undoubtedly signified our relationship in the past years, including with what I told her next…

"You can leave for another night, Sammi."

She gazed up at me in surprise of my consent. "You're…letting me go? Just like that?"

I nodded to her. "Just don't expect Mom and Dad not to find out when they arrive tomorrow." I then drove it home with her, hoping that my next words would have even more of an influence on whatever was left of her conscience: "This is your _last_ chance with them – don't blow it on some wild chase."

I returned to the couch and watched her as her eyes darted back and forth between the front door and me – a conflict of emotions overcoming her. It was as if she were a drug addict poised with the decision of the drug and life itself. I could tell she had strongly considered my precaution. Not in a long time had something I said ever placed her in such a position.

What happened next took my breath away in a _bad_ way.

Sammi got up from the couch, grabbed her coat from off the rack near the door, and headed right out for another night of waiting atop random rooftops for a missing businessman she believed to be posing as Santa Claus.

It crushed me completely. Tears streamed from my eyes once my head went into my hands. Whatever was left of my little sister inside that shell of a woman she turned into had disappeared forever.

Or so that was what I thought until…

"Are they really coming here for Christmas?"

I looked right up as soon as I heard her voice again – not having heard the door opened back up no less than a few minutes later. My face was drenched in my own tears, and my vision blurred from them; but, sure enough, my little sister had returned, peeking her head in and showing that vulnerable puppy dog face I hadn't seen on her since before the Christmas of '94.

"Yes," I said in a shaky voice. "Yes, they are."

With that confirmation, Sammi stepped right back inside the apartment, removing her coat and heading to her bedroom. As she did, she jokingly warned me, "It's going to be a disaster, you know."

I nodded with a smile, happy tears streaming from my eyes. "Yep – one _wonderful_ disaster."

And that, dear readers, is the greatest Christmas gift I've ever received.

**Happy Holidays!**


End file.
